


Fool Me Once

by mitslits



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Drugs, Hartwin, M/M, Sugar Daddy AU, identity crisis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-21 05:36:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4817087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitslits/pseuds/mitslits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gary Unwin, son of two of the wealthiest people on the planet, is about to become a sugar baby. Why? Because he thinks Harry Hart may just be the most breath-taking man who's ever lived. So he turns himself into 'Eggsy', a down-on-his-luck ex-Marine with no money, no future, and no options left but to find himself a sugar daddy. Now he just has to hope he's a good enough actor to convince Harry that's what he really is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wanna Be My Sugar, Baby?

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of these two gifsets: 
> 
> (Part 1) http://hartwinorlose.tumblr.com/post/128997120960/roxy-you-dont-need-a-sugar-daddy-gary-youre  
> (Part 2) http://hartwinorlose.tumblr.com/post/129068928635/sugar-daddy-au-part-2-despite-roxys
> 
> Not Brit-picked and un-Betaed, so any mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Hope you guys like it!

He sits in the café, fingers nervously tapping on the tabletop, teeth chewing away at his bottom lip. This was a mistake, a massive, massive fuck-up and he has to get out of here before-

The door opens and in steps a man who definitely looks like he should be in a better part of town, what with the formal suit he’s wearing and the umbrella he casually carries with him despite there not being even a single cloud in the sky.

Before that happens. “Oh, fuck _me_.”

*****************************  
Gary jerks awake as his phone goes off under his ear. Making a mental note to stop falling asleep with it on his pillow (the same mental note he’s made quite a few nights before), he blinks blearily, scrubbing over his face with one hand while swiping to answer the call with the other. “Yeah, who is it?” he mumbles, voice still thick with sleep.

“Were you still asleep?” comes the disapproving and highly unamused voice of Roxy Morton, the only close friend he’s managed to make in twenty-three years of life. “Don’t you have to be at that ceremony in fifteen minutes? The one honoring your parents’ highly generous donation to an otherwise floundering, friendless university.”

Suddenly reminded of that, Gary’s head whips up to look at his alarm clock. “Shit,” he hisses, bolting straight up, phone still clutched to his ear. “Thanks for waking me up, Rox, but I’ve got to get ready. My parents are going to kill me if I miss another one of these.” Even as he’s speaking he’s moving, throwing back his covers and rolling off the bed (king-sized, even though he’s never had anyone to share it with).

For a second there’s only the sound of static that he later realizes is a tired sigh on Roxy’s part. “ _Another_ one? Someday I’ll teach you about the magic of alarm clocks. Go on, then, get ready. I’ll call again later. I _do_ have something to talk to you about, you know.” She’s off the line before he has a chance to reply.

Gary lets the phone fall onto his mattress, already wiggling his way out of his trousers and tugging at the buttons on his pyjama shirt. As he stumbles his way to his closet to pull out the suit he’s supposed to be in already he passes his laptop, sitting open on his desk in a small sea of empty medication bottles. “Oh, fuck.” Silently thanking whatever higher power had kept anybody out of his room, he drops to his knees, tugging a duffel bag out from underneath his bed and sweeping the small bottles in to join the others.

His fingers brush against the trackpad, bringing the computer to life with a cheery ding. A flash of color catches Gary’s eye and he pauses, attention captured by the screen.

A very pink banner bracketed by sparkling hearts informs him that ‘Wanna be my sugar, baby?’ is the Sugar Daddy Capital of the Internet.

“The hell’d I do last night?” Gary mutters to himself, moving to close the webpage. That’s when he notices the mailbox in the corner has a little notification. A message. Presumably from a sugar daddy.

He has a ceremony to get to. He clicks on the mailbox.

*************************  
They’ve left the café, have taken to simply wandering along the sidewalk. The day is nice enough for it, for once.

“Eggsy, I presume.”

“Yeah. An’ what should I call you?”

“Harry is fine.” A pause. “Daddy on special occasions.”

***************************  
Harold Hart is, apparently, a man who has more money than he knows what to do with and nothing better to do with that money than spend it on young men and women he feels are worth his time. He’s forty-eight years old. Multi-millionaire. Current status: available.

Gary clicks through every photo he has available multiple times, hardly even aware of the clock ticking up minute by minute, the ceremony getting closer to starting with each passing second. The man wears a suit like it was stitched onto his body and he thinks it might be even more erotic than if he had a bunch of nudes up, somehow.

It had taken him a second to put together the puzzle of last night, but he’d done it eventually. And, man, had he _really_ done it. Even hazed up he’d recognized the kind of figure Harry cut and messaged him a plethora of lies designed to reel him in. It had worked like a charm. He’d be more impressed with himself if he could remember doing any of it.

‘I’d be very interested in meeting you, Eggsy. Could you, perhaps, meet me at a time of your choosing in the Starbucks coffee shop on Savile Row?’

Eggsy. What the fuck kind of a name was Eggsy? And how the hell was he supposed to meet Harry when he technically didn’t even exist?

But he can’t pass up this opportunity, not with Harry looking like that and Eggsy’s heart beating a million times a minute just from staring at his pictures. It’s as his fingers grope for his phone that he realizes it’s still on his bed and his duffel bag is sitting out in the open. He also realizes it’s only five minutes until the ceremony starts.

*************************  
“Special occasions? Like what?”

Harry comes to a halt, the easy pace he’d been setting allowing Eggsy to get a few steps further forward before realizing the older man was no longer walking. An almost predatory look had come over his face at the question and it sent shivers running down Eggsy’s spine.

“You’re an intelligent young man. I’m certain you can figure it out.”

“Yes, Harry.”

****************************

“Rox, I’ve got a problem,” Gary states, digging through his closet frantically for something that looks casual, _actually_ casual. Something a young man who’d never heard the name ‘Armani’ in connection with a suit would wear. So far he’d come up with a pair of dress pants faded enough to probably pass as slacks and not much else.

“The first is that you’re calling me and not presenting your parents with their newest plaque,” she says, a bit of an edge to her voice. “I told you I’d call you back because I expected you to actually try and get there, Gary.”

Frustrated, Gary groans, rocking back onto his heels. He doesn’t even have casual shoes, for crying out loud. “Yeah, well, sorry to disappoint. I need your help.”

For a moment there is only silence and he can picture her with her phone pulled away from her ear, giving it a scandalized look as if it’s the device’s fault he’s such a wanker and not his own. “Fine,” he finally hears after a pause. “Fine, what do you need my help with?”

Despite the situation, Gary’s mouth edges up into a bit of a grin. “I need you to take me shopping.”

*****************************  
“You said you were in the Marines.”

Eggsy nods, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his black-and-gold hoodie. “Used to be, yeah.”

“I’m very curious as to why you dropped out.”

“Had to take care of my mum and little sister.”

Harry gives him a bit of a nod. “Perhaps I could meet them someday.”

Shit.

*******************************  
Roxy looks as unamused as Gary’s ever seen her, eyes narrowed, arms folded over her chest, legs spread a bit apart as if his stupidity is a physical force she has to brace herself against. “I’m sorry, didn’t quite get that the first time. Run it by me again. Last night you, one: practically drugged yourself into oblivion-“

“-might have taken a little something-“

“Two: made an account on a sugar daddy website despite being rich enough to buy half of England’s largest companies without blinking an eye-“

“-don’t need to be dirt poor to have a sugar daddy-“

“Three: made up a person who would actually find a use for something like this so you could message a man over twice your age and solicit him for gifts you don’t need-“

“-he’s fucking gorgeous, did you see his-“

“And four: are now blowing off a ceremony honoring your own parents, where you’re supposed to be presenting them with an award, in favor of dragging me on a shopping trip so you can buy clothes that will help you trick some unsuspecting man into buying you things you can afford perfectly well, just so you can sleep with him. Is that about right?”

Gary rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, his cheeks going perhaps a shade or two pinker than they had been before. “Yeah, that’s… pretty much it,” he mutters. Silence stretches between them, Roxy’s eyes drilling holes into his head. “So are you going to help me or not?” he finally asks, looking up at her.

She closes her eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of her nose, before letting out a long, slow sigh. “Against all my better judgment, yes. Yes, I’m going to help you. But only because I think this is never going to work.”

Gary’s face brightens and he sweeps her into a hug, lifting her feet off the ground and spinning her around in a circle before setting her back down and dropping a quick kiss on her forehead. “You’re the best, Roxy, you really are. I owe you one.” He doesn’t wait for a response, just heads out the door, waving at her to follow after him.

“You owe me far more than one for this, Gary Unwin,” she mutters, but catches up to him anyways.

*************************  
“Think that’s a good idea, you meetin’ my parents?” Eggsy asks, struggling to keep his voice as light and airy as it’s been up until that point.

“I don’t see why I shouldn’t.”

“Ain’t every day someone brings home a sugar daddy to meet with mum,” he points out.

Harry snorts, giving him a look that seems to chastise him for the comment. “Of course you wouldn’t be introducing me with such a title. All I would be to them is Harry Hart, the tailor who has so graciously agreed to take you under my wing and tutor you in the art of suit-making.”

Eggsy’s mouth is empty, no excuse welling up to fill it, even though he desperately needs one. “Yeah… yeah, alright.”

_Shit._

*************************  
He doesn’t quite know who he is, but the guy staring back at him in the mirror isn’t Gary. Gary would never wear anything like this, or look so at ease in it either. Gary would never have adopted the ridiculous accent he has when he asks Roxy if he looks like a proper chav, and Gary would certainly never think that he feels far more comfortable in street clothes than he ever did in a suit.

“You sound like one, too,” Roxy assures him, taking a step back to admire him. She has to admit, they’ve done a hell of a job at making him look like he mixes in with those sitting at the feet of luxury rather than in its lap. She wonders what it is that makes him look the most like a ‘proper chav.’ Her money is on the oversized hoodie.

His is on the baseball cap. “Time to go meet Harry,” he tells the reflection, nerves making his voice a little tighter than usual.

Roxy just sighs. She’d been holding out hope that maybe, just maybe, a few hours would have cleared his head and made him change his mind about actually pursuing this course of action, but it seems she’d had too much faith in him. “You know this is a bad idea.” The tone of her voice makes it very clear that she, at least, knows it’s a bad idea.

“I’ve had worse ones,” he replies, shrugging one shoulder, and turning to face her. A cocky grin slides onto his face and his hands go to the pockets of his new hoodie, fitting easily inside them. “I told you how great you are, yeah? But I gotta go. Don’t wanna be late for my first date.”

Rolling her eyes, Roxy just folds her arms over her chest and shakes her head slowly. “It isn’t a date. Right? Don’t you have to make some sort of agreement before he gives you anything? Or… you give him anything,” she adds, brow furrowing slightly.

He nods. “Relax, Rox, it ain’t like we’re gonna just get straight into it. Least I don’t think so, anyways. All he said was he wanted to meet me. It’s just coffee. Nothin’ kinky. Yet.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, trying to take his mind off of how nervous he is.

“No, stop, I do _not_ need to hear about that right now,” Roxy says, putting her hand up as if it can prevent him from saying anything more. “Or ever,” she amends. “Just go if you have to, yeah? I’ll tell your parents you’re sick or something.”

He reaches out to grab her wrist, tugging her in for a quick kiss to her cheek. “Thanks. You’re the best, love you forever, an’ all that, but I really should get goin’. See you later.” With a wave of farewell he strides off, headed for Savile Row.

************************  
“Well?”

“Well what?” Harry looks over at him curiously.

“We gonna do this, then? Make it all official and shit.”

Harry casts a deliberate look down at Eggsy’s trainers, wings and all. “If shoes such as those are the type of purchases you plan to make with my money I’m afraid I might have to reconsider,” he says wryly.

Eggsy smirks, sticking one foot out and tilting it back and forth to really show the shoe off. “You’re just pissed you can’t pull ‘em off.”

Harry’s mouth quirks up into a small smile and his eyes soften. “Yes, well, perhaps I could have twenty years ago. I suppose we’ll never know.” He lets a bit of a pause settle in before nodding decisively. “But, yes, I would like to make this official. If you’ll have me.”

“Course I’ll have you, Harry,” Eggsy says, sounding a bit scandalized by the insinuation that anyone _wouldn’t_.

“Good.” Harry holds out his hand for a handshake.

Eggsy’s hand curls around Harry’s tie, tugging him down until he can brush his lips against the older man’s. It’s a fast kiss, barely there, but he winks when he releases him. “Wanted somethin’ more official than a handshake. Later, Harry.” He saunters off, feeling as if the ridiculous winged trainers have actually succeeded in lifting him off the ground.

There isn’t any idea of going back.


	2. Gotta Stay High

[Saturday November 11th 11:15 P.M.] How did your “date” with Harry go? I assume it’s over by now. –RM

[Saturday November 11th 11:21 P.M.] Eggsy’s got a sugar daddy. –GU

[Saturday November 11th 11: 25 P.M.] You’re not serious. –RM

[Saturday November 11th 11: 32 P.M.] Of course I’m serious. I wasn’t going to meet him just to tell him to fuck off. –GU

[Saturday November 11th 11: 44 P.M.] Foolishly, I expected you to tell him the truth. Apparently that same thought didn’t cross your mind. –RM

[Saturday November 11th 11: 48 P.M.] The truth isn’t going to get me laid. –GU

[Saturday November 11th 11: 54 P.M.] No, I suppose you’re right. –RM

[Sunday November 12th 12: 15 A.M.] I’m off to bed. Goodnight, Gary. –RM

[Sunday November 12th 12: 17 A.M.] Night, Rox. –GU

************************

“Honestly, mum, I’m fine. Calling the doctor was a bit much,” Gary mutters, arms folded over his chest as he sits propped up in his bed.

“I’m going to need you to unfold your arms,” the doctor says, placing the stethoscope in his ears and glancing over at him expectantly.

With a gusty sigh, Gary lets his arms fall to his sides, the cold metal raising goosebumps on his skin while the doctor listens to his heart.

After a moment or two the physician begins packing up his things. “He seems to have a touch of myoclonus and it seems there may be some development of respiratory depression, but there appear to be no immediate issues.” He turns to Gary, looking down at his clipboard adorned with the young man’s medical history. “Have you been on any prescription painkillers recently, Mr. Unwin?”

Gary shakes his head, but his mother can’t let it lie there.

“No, he hasn’t been on anything since he was twelve. He had to have a large dose of heavy sedatives for a while, because he put a small torch up his… well, his… his rear e-“

“ _Mum_ ,” Gary breaks in, cheeks flaming red with embarrassment.

“Oh, well, you know how young boys will experiment,” she says, looking a little bit relieved to not have to go on. “But, no, nothing recent. Pardon me, doctor, but may I ask what myoclonus is? And respiratory depression? They both sound rather serious. Do they need to be treated? Is he going to be okay?”

The doctor raises his hand to stem the flow of questions, shaking his head. “As of this moment, ma’am, it’s nothing to worry about. Myoclonus is simply little muscle spasms and are quite common in healthy individuals. The occurrence of one during my visit is most likely nothing more than a normal twitch. If, however, they start to become excessive, we’ll have to take a closer look. They could be indicative of a metabolic disorder or kidney failure, or something as harmless as essential myoclonus.” He scribbles a few notes down on the paper momentarily before looking back up at her. “May I have a word with you outside?”

Gary’s brow furrows at that and he sits up a little straighter. “Hey, anything you have to say about me you can say in front of me. There isn’t any need to go sneaking off with my mum,” he protests, heart rate picking up a little.

“I’m sure she’ll tell you if she feels you need to know,” the doctor says with a slightly patronizing smile.

Lip curling into a sneer, Gary opens his mouth to reply, but his mother doesn’t give him the chance, leading the physician out of the room before he can get another word in. The door closes behind them and he’s out of the bed and pressing his ear to it in seconds.

Their voices are muffled, but clear enough that he can still hear them well enough to make out their words.

“While the myoclonus itself may be nothing more than bad timing it is slightly worrying in combination with the respiratory depression. That on its own would raise a few red flags, but together… they suggest a dependence on some sort of drug. It’s difficult to say which; many combinations or individual ones produce this sort of result,” the doctor explains, voice pitched a bit low.

Gary has to strain to hear him, but his blood runs cold at the words. He should have had Roxy come up with a different alibi, one that didn’t involve a potential disaster like this being the outcome.

“Mrs. Unwin, do you have any knowledge of which recreational substances your son might be ingesting? I would like to have him tested, but it would be easier if we could narrow it down to a certain sort of range. 

His mother takes a moment to answer, her tone angry when she finally does. “I’m afraid I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. Gary would never do something like that, I assure you. If he has symptoms of something that could be serious then I suggest you find out what it is instead of subjecting him to some sort of silly, unnecessary drug test.”

He’s heard enough. Gary settles back into the bed, face paler than it had been before, the knowledge of the duffel bag sitting innocuously under his bed bearing heavily on his mind. He could be very, very fucked.

**************************

[Monday November 13th 1:20 A.M.] Shit, you had something you wanted to talk to me about, didn’t you? –GU

[Monday November 13th 1:27 A.M.] You woke me up for that? Bastard. –RM

[Monday November 13th 1:33 A.M.] You’re awake now. Might as well answer me. –GU

[Monday November 13th 1:38 A.M.] It isn’t even that big of a deal. My mother’s getting married. –RM

[Monday November 13th 1:39 A.M.] Again. –RM

[Monday November 13th 1:42 A.M.] Shit, Rox. –GU 

[Monday November 13th 1:45 A.M.] You okay? –GU 

[Monday November 13th 1:52 A.M.] I’m handling it. –RM

[Monday November 13th 1:56 A.M.] You want something? –GU

[Monday November 13th 2:01 A.M.] Christ, Gary. –RM

[Monday November 13th 2:03 A.M.] I said I was handling it. –RM

[Monday November 13th 2:09 A.M.] Yeah. Yeah, alright. –GU 

*********************

He doesn’t sleep. He doesn’t have time. It’s normally easy to swing out of the window and climb down the massive, branching oak tree that’s practically glued to the side of the house, but he’s not normally carrying a duffel bag when he’s doing it. Or high as a fucking kite, for that matter.

He’s honestly surprised he isn’t dead. The supply he’d had was supposed to have lasted him three more days, but if his mother decided to act on the doctor’s suspicion… They can’t be in the house, not anymore. All of it has to go. Gary has to get clean.

That doesn’t mean Eggsy has to.

************************

[Monday November 13th 6:41 A.M.] You ever watched the sunrise near the Thames? Fucking beautiful. –GU

[Monday November 13th 6:45 A.M.] This is the second time you’ve woken me up. I _am_ going to kill you. –RM

[Monday November 13th 6:52 A.M.] No, you won’t. Who else is going to help you skip out on your mum’s wedding? –GU

[Monday November 13th 6:57 A.M.] I’ve reconsidered. You can live. –RM

[Monday November 13th 6:59 A.M.] What are you doing at the Thames, anyways? –RM

[Monday November 13th 7:10 A.M.] I had some things to get rid of. –GU

[Monday November 13th 7:13 A.M.] You want to tell me what happened? –RM

[Monday November 13th 7:26 A.M.] Not really. –GU

************************

Gary leans against the railing of the bridge, chin propped up on his arms. He’s dressed as Eggsy; it’s easier to turn fewer heads that way and, besides, climbing down a tree is easier in jeans and a baggy T-shirt than a suit or pyjamas. The ecstasy is just beginning to wear off and his euphoria is swirling rapidly away. If only his mum hadn’t called the fucking doctor.

His mobile rings and for a second he thinks it’s Roxy, ready to chew him out about waking her up or harp on him for offering her drugs. But the name on his screen isn’t Rox, it’s Harry, and his mood picks up a bit.

“What’s up, bruv?” he asks, remembering at the last second to slip into Eggsy’s accent.

“I’m afraid I neglected to get your bank account information at our meeting the other day,” Harry says, sounding genuinely apologetic. As if it was the worst thing in the world that he couldn’t give Eggsy money at a moment’s notice.

Grinning, Eggsy turns so he can lean back against the railing, crossing the arm not holding his phone over his chest. “Guess we should meet up then so I can give it to you, yeah?”

Harry doesn’t hesitate. “That would be agreeable.”

“Aces. I’m doin’ the Queen’s Walk, Westminster Bridge. Could find a place to wait up for you.”

“You could be waiting a while.”

“Got nothin’ but time, Harry.”

“Then I shall be there.”

“See you soon.”

“I don’t know about soon.”

“Just see you, then.”

“That’s probably more accurate." 

It is the matter of moments for Eggsy to set up his own bank account, one that’s conveniently disconnected from Gary’s or any other member of the Unwin family. With that settled, he makes his way over to one of the small shops lining the walk, glancing in the windows just to kill time.

He’s already itching for another fix.


	3. Gateway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first real attempt at smut. You've been warned.

The ceiling is spinning and the stranger beside him is his new best friend.

********************

It doesn’t take as long as Eggsy expects for Harry to show up, the two of them meeting at the front of a small shop that appears to be selling decorative plates stamped with the queen’s face. Eggsy finds them tacky; Harry insists they’re charming. 

Eggsy gives Harry the information he needs and they stroll leisurely along, not quite touching. After a few blocks of that, Eggsy snakes his arm around Harry’s waist, feeling a small thrill of satisfaction when Harry’s arm settles around his shoulders, allowing him to press even closer. 

There are a few curious looks from passersby, a few disapproving glares from mothers whose eyes flick first to Harry’s face lined with age, to that of the much younger man he’s practically glued do. Eggsy makes sure to smirk at every single one of them. 

“I don’t really feel like I’m earnin’ anythin’ here, Harry,” Eggsy finally says, after they’ve gone about halfway down the walk. 

Harry glances down at him, brow furrowing in confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.” 

Snorting, Eggsy lets his arm fall from his waist, stopping in the middle of the walkway and crossing his arms over his chest. “You and I both know you ain’t payin’ me to take me on walks and meet in cafés,” he points out.

Harry’s eyes darken slightly, but he doesn’t react further beyond steering Eggsy back into the flow of traffic to get them moving again. He turns his head, bringing his lips in close to Eggsy’s ear. “You’re certainly right about that.” 

**********************

He’s pretty sure he’s got ten fingers on each hand. He lifts one of them, squinting at it blearily and wiggling the fingers on it experimentally. Yes. Ten. He takes a second look. No. Only five.

***********************

Eggsy’s expecting a three star hotel, at the most. They check into a five star. He would have thought that maybe he should have expected a five star hotel (even if it _was_ only for a quick shag) from a multi-millionaire, if he wasn’t so busy trying to shove down the ball of nerves that had started forming in his stomach.

It was absolutely ridiculous to be nervous. This was what he’d made Eggsy for, after all, and besides, he could actually put Harry’s money to use now. Still, there was a little voice in his head telling him it wasn’t too late to back out; all he had to do was tell him the truth and the whole thing would be called off, whether he wanted it to be or not. Just remove choice from the equation. It would be so much easier.

Harry shoving him against the door is a highly effective way of telling the voice to shut up, the older man’s hands boxing in Eggsy’s head, Eggsy’s back melting against the door as Harry looms forwards.

“This one of those special occasions you were talkin’ about?” Eggsy laughs breathlessly, Harry’s face only inches away from his. He manages to drag his eyes away from his lips long enough to smirk up at him.

“I don’t see why it should be,” Harry says, looking far more serious than Eggsy would have expected.

He swallows down any lingering inhibitions, hands reaching for the lapels of Harry’s suit so he can pull him in even closer, his hips arching off the door to press against the other man’s. “Well, I want it to be,” he growls, eyes locking with his challengingly. “So what’re you gonna do about it… _daddy_?”

Something deliciously feral sparks up in Harry’s eyes and his lips twitch up into the most wicked smirk Eggsy’s ever seen. “Oh, dear boy,” he says, voice low, something close to a growl, “that’s just what I was hoping you’d ask." 

*****************

“You ever think about how fucked up it is we only got five fingers?” he asks, the words reverberating through his skull.

The stranger only grunts in response, letting his head flop back and forth to either side in what might be interpreted as a ‘no.’

He squints, thinking hard for a moment. “Me neither.”

*******************

Somehow, (and Eggsy’s not entirely sure how), Harry has moved him from the door to the bed, setting him down onto the mattress before stepping back.

Eggsy whines involuntarily, reaching for him, wanting to bring him back to his kiss-swollen lips, not kissed enough, in his opinion.

Instead Harry pulls over one of the chairs, seating himself in it and leaning back slightly, arms folded over his chest, eyes fixed on Eggsy.

Eggsy props himself up on his elbows, one eyebrow raised in question. “Bit far away over there, ain’t you?” he asks.

“Not at all, for what I intend,” Harry says with a slow shake of his head.

Confusion only growing, Eggsy’s head tilts to one side. “An’ what’s that, exactly?”

Harry’s eyes sharpen a bit and one side of his mouth lifts in something akin to a smile. “I think I’d very much like to watch you.”

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he’s talking about and Eggsy’s face goes a shade redder than it was before, but he sits up fully, already shrugging out of the sleeves of his jacket. He tosses it carelessly to one side, peeling off his T-shirt next, slower than he normally would. Might as well make a show out of it, he thinks. Naked from the waist up he places his hand at his throat, looking over at Harry.

He’s staring at him intently, appreciatively (at least that’s what Eggsy hopes that expression means).

Slowly, ever so slowly, he runs his fingers down his torso, fingertips just skimming over his skin until they reach the waistband of his trousers. He flicks the button of his trousers open easily, using only finger, a trick he’d picked up in the back of some bar that he shouldn’t have been in with some guy he shouldn’t have been with. He lowers himself onto the mattress, hooking both of his thumbs into the waistband of his trousers and arching his hips off the bed so he can tug them down, his jeans pooling at his feet.

Suddenly very aware that he’s dressed only in his boxers, his eyes close so he doesn’t have to see Harry watching him anymore. It doesn’t quite work; he can still feel Harry’s stare on him, but it isn’t as bad.

Eggsy draws his legs up onto the bed, shifting so that he’s lying properly on it, giving Harry a full view of all of him. He palms himself over his boxers, the heat of his hand seeping easily through the thin fabric. Biting his bottom lip to keep from whining again, he rolls his hips up experimentally. The sudden introduction of friction draws a gasp out of him and he does it again, bracing his head against the plush pillow.

It isn’t long before that isn’t enough and he pushes his boxers off as well, letting them join the pile of clothes already on the floor. He wraps his hand around his cock, starting off with long, slow strokes, enough to tantalize him, but not enough to bring him to any sort of release. His eyes half open, sliding over to look at Harry, lips slightly parted in an attempt to make it easier to breathe.

Eggsy tries for a smirk, but the effect is ruined (or enhanced, in Harry’s opinion) when his thumb brushes over the sensitive head of his cock and he gasps instead, eyes sliding closed again. His hand moves a little faster, need beginning to curl up low in his abdomen. He sees Harry get out of the chair, walk over to him, replace Eggsy’s hand with his own. His hips arch up willingly into his touch, skilled fingers running over him, applying just the right amount of pressure to make him moan, long and low. 

Eggsy’s free hand runs over his chest, brushing over his nipples and prompting a slight shudder. His pace increases, the rhythm of his hand getting a little more irregular as the need burning in his abdomen demands attention be paid. Precum beads at the tip of his slit and his thumb swipes over it, smearing it over the head of his cock. “Fu-fuck,” he breathes out, unable to stop the word from slipping out.

Harry’s eyes spark mischievously as he leans forward, mouth parted as if he’s about to say something. “Stop.”

Eggsy’s eyes fly open to see nobody looming above him, nobody’s hand on his cock but his own, Harry still sitting exactly where had been. Disoriented, he unconsciously obeys the order, hand stilling, pupils blown wide as his head flops to the side so he can see him more easily.

Now Harry really does get himself out of the chair, walking maddeningly slowly over to the bed. He gently pulls Eggsy’s hand away, wrapping his own around Eggsy’s cock. “I certainly hope,” he says, calm and collected as ever, “that when you were coming so beautifully undone you were thinking of me.” As he speaks he moves, running his hand up and down in short, deliberate strokes.

Harry’s grip is harder than his own had been, edging just on the line between pleasure and pain. Eggsy can’t help it; his hips cant off the mattress of their own volition and his hands fist in the sheets. “Harry,” he breathes out, not able to muster much control over his voice.

Instantly, Harry stops, glancing down at Eggsy with an arched eyebrow. “Harry?” he repeats.

Eggsy groans, the tight, burning coil in his abdomen complaining at the interruption. “Daddy,” he corrects quickly, eyes pleading.

With a satisfied smile, Harry resumes, pace just a bit faster than before, fingers taking Eggsy apart skillfully. He leans over him, predatory, Eggsy’s hands flying to his shoulders for support. “Now, Eggsy,” he says, lips brushing just underneath his ear with every word. “Come for me.”

With a shuddering moan, Eggsy complies, spilling into Harry’s hand, his back arching off the bed. When it’s over he slumps back down to the mattress, flushed and panting. The comforting warmth of Harry vanishes and he frowns, about to protest, when the man returns with a damp washcloth, hands already cleaned. Gently, tenderly almost, he wipes Eggsy down until he’s satisfied, bending down to scoop his clothes off the floor and return them to him.

A little reluctantly, Eggsy dresses himself, watching Harry out of the corner of his eye. “Ain’t we gonna do anythin’ with you, bruv?” he asks.

“Not this time,” Harry replies, standing and offering him his hand. “But I appreciate your concern.” He smiles wryly, pulling the younger man off the bed and guiding him to the door with a hand in the small of his back.

They stay that way until they’re outside the hotel. “I’ll see you again soon, Eggsy,” Harry promises, pressing a light, chaste kiss to his lips. Without waiting for a reply, he turns and walks off, getting lost in the crowd of tourists and Londoners.

Eggsy stares at the spot he disappeared into, blinking.

*************************

They say if your first trip is good you go back for more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This just in: I suck at smut. That's gonna be fun, huh? Hopefully I'll get better with practice.


	4. Bonding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More characters, yay. Also, more Roxy.

He stumbles his way out of the less-than-five star hotel he’d ended up in, scrubbing a hand over his face and leaving the stranger still hazed out on whatever shit he took. He runs face-first into someone, stepping back and blinking. “Sorry ‘bout it, bruv,” he mutters.

A steadying hand descends on his shoulder, the other man looking at his face. “’S alright. My mate Ryan in there?” he asks, jerking his head towards the room he’s just come out of.

“Yeah.” At least, he looks like his name could be Ryan.

“He alright?”

“Yeah.” Probably.

“Good. Name’s Jamal.” He sticks out his hand.

He accepts his hand, giving him a half-hearted shake. “Eggsy,” he says without thinking.

****************

[Tuesday November 14th 10:46 P.M.] Come over. I’m on the roof. –RM

[Tuesday November 14th 10:50 P.M.] That bad? –GU

[Tuesday November 14th 10:55 P.M.] Bring alcohol. –RM

[Tuesday November 14th 10:57 P.M.] What kind? –GU

[Tuesday November 14th 11:03 P.M.] It doesn’t even matter. Whatever will get me drunk. –RM

[Tuesday November 14th 11:09 P.M.] I’ll be right there. –GU

_

Gary hoists himself up over the railing, glass bottle clinking in the bag he’s got secured over one shoulder. It takes no time at all to cross the balcony and haul himself over the edge of the roof. He spots Roxy’s silhouetted form on the opposite side, knees drawn up to her chest, chin resting on them mournfully.

“Here you are,” he says, lowering the bag next to her and seating himself beside her.

She reaches for the bag, shooting him a grateful look. “Sometimes, Gary, you’re a saint. Fuck yes.” She tugs out a bottle, tilting it towards the moon so she can actually read the label before shooting him a skeptical glance.

Gary raises his hands in surrender, shrugging. “You’re the one who said you wanted to get drunk.”

Sighing, she unscrews the cap. “Guess I’m just going to get there a lot faster than I thought,” she mutters, raising the Fireball whiskey to her lips. She takes a small, short swig, slamming the bottle down onto the roof and screwing her eyes shut as it traces fire down her throat. “Holy _shit_ ,” she chokes out.

“Good, yeah?” Gary grins, reaching over for it.

“That highly depends on your definition of ‘good’,” she says wryly, reluctant to pass it to him anyways. “It’ll serve its purpose.”

For a few moments they don’t say anything more, just take turns passing the whiskey back and forth, staring up at the moon. Eventually, Roxy sighs and brings her knees up to her chest, resting her forehead on them. “How can she do this?” she asks, a slight crack in her voice.

Gary reaches over and circles his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into him. It takes a second, but she uncurls enough to bury her face in his shoulder instead, arms winding around his waist, hip pressed close to his.

“Doesn’t she remember my dad? Doesn’t she _miss_ him?” Roxy sniffs, voice muffled by the fabric of Gary’s shirt.

Soothingly, he runs a hand down her back, bringing it back up to comb gently through her hair. “Of course she does, Rox. But she’s just… well, she’s probably a bit lonely. You can’t expect her to wait for him to come back when you know he can’t.”

Roxy shakes her head, pulling back but not away. “I know that, but she couldn’t she wait more than two months? God, that’s hardly time for him to start decomposing,” she sighs.

Gary glances at her skeptically, one eyebrow arching up. “Morbid when you’re drunk, aren’t you?”

She nudges him with her shoulder, gracing him with the barest hint of a smile. “Shut up. It’s just science. And I’m not even drunk. Yet.” She reaches across his lap to secure the bottle again, taking another swig, handling this one much better than the first.

“So she’s only known the guy she’s marrying for two months? Bit fast, don’t you think?” Gary asks, leaning back until he’s stretched out on his back, hands folded underneath his head.

Glancing down at him, Roxy shrugs. “She’s only known him for a few weeks. Much too fast. But my mother does what she likes and there’s nothing I can say to her to convince her it’s a bad idea. I’ve never even met the guy.”

“He’s probably a snob. All rich people are,” Gary teases.

Roxy rolls her eyes, sets the bottle down, and lies down beside him, resting her head on his chest. “You’re the snobbiest,” she replies.

Gary drapes one of his arms around her, grinning up at the stars. “Damn straight.”

Roxy closes her eyes and a few minutes pass. He thinks she might have fallen asleep until she murmurs, “Thank you for this, Gary.” She lifts her head enough to look at him. “Really. I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, well,” Gary says nonchalantly, shrugging. “I owed you one.”

“Oh, you still owe me far more than one,” she warns him with a mischievous smile, settling her head back on his chest. “But don’t worry. I’ll collect that debt later.”

*********************************

“You ever want another go you just call me, yeah, Eggsy? I can hook you up with my dealer, got the best shit this side of London,” Jamal assures him, scribbling a phone number on a sheet of the hotel pad. He rips it off and hands it out to him.

Blearily, Eggsy takes it, squinting at what he knows are numbers, but he can’t quite make out which ones they are. “Thanks, bruv,” he mutters, taking one last look at Ryan’s mostly still figure stretched out on the bed. “Call you, then.” He stumbles back out and starts making his way home. His hand slips into his pocket, fingers curling around the folded piece of paper. He’ll be needing that later.

*******************************

[Wednesday November 15th 2:03 P.M.] She’s making me meet him and I still have a hangover. –RM

[Wednesday November 15th 2:04 P.M.] Fuck. –RM

[Wednesday November 15th 2:11 P.M.] Maybe you’ll make such a bad impression he won’t marry your mum after all. –GU

[Wednesday November 15th 2:14 P.M.] That’s terrible. I hope it happens. –RM

[Wednesday November 15th 2:17 P.M.] I’m terrible. –RM

[Wednesday November 15th 2: 22 P.M.] You’re not terrible, Rox. Just human. –GU

[Wednesday November 15th 2:27 P.M.] God, I don’t want to see him. I look like a mess and I’m not exactly thinking clearly. What if I accidentally say something? –RM

[Wednesday November 15th 2:34 P.M.] I can’t help you there. You and I both know I’m not an expert on telling the truth. –GU

[Wednesday November 15th 2:38 P.M.] Not comforting, Gary. –RM

[Wednesday November 15th 2:43 P.M.] And you need to tell him _someday_. –RM

[Wednesday November 15th 2:47 P.M.] We’re not talking about me. This is about you. You’ll be fine. Bet you still look gorgeous. –GU

[Wednesday November 15th 2:55 P.M.] Yes, I’m sure my unwashed hair and dark under-eye circles could get me any man I wanted. –RM

[Wednesday November 15th 2:59 P.M.] You don’t need to “get him”, Rox. –GU

[Wednesday November 15th 3:02 P.M.] Thank god. –RM

[Wednesday November 15th 3:06 P.M.] Text me after? –GU

[Wednesday November 15th 3:12 P.M.] Don’t worry. You’ll be getting all the details. –RM

*********************

He uses the newly empty duffel bag to stow the mostly empty whiskey bottle, shoving it back under his bed. Everything looks the same as he left it, but he wouldn’t put it past his mother to have come in and had a very discreet look around while he was out. At least Roxy had given him an excuse to be gone, not that his parents generally cared about his whereabouts.

Sighing, his head already beginning to ache from the hangover he knows he’ll wake up with, he crawls under his covers without bothering to change. Something crackles in his pocket and he sits up, digging out the paper that’s now a little more crumpled, numbers still easily legible.

His eyes dart towards his door as if his mother is somehow going to burst in, sensing somehow that he’s got a new connection. But it stays closed and he quickly folds the paper up a few times, making it smaller, and shoves it in his pillow case. He closes his eyes and tries to sleep.

************************

[Wednesday November 15th 10:32 P.M.] I’m going to need way more alcohol. –RM


	5. Fitting Room Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More smut.

“The fuck kind of a name is _Merlin_?” Gary asks, watching Roxy drain the last of the whiskey from the bottle, hair tinted silver by the moon.

She lowers it and glances over at him, raising one eyebrow skeptically. “The same kind of a name as ‘Eggsy’,” she retorts.

Gary shrugs, conceding the point. He leans back until he’s propped up on his elbows, cheek pillowed against one shoulder. “I’m lost here, Rox. So far you’ve made this guy out to be tall, handsome, and utterly charming. I’m not seeing a problem.”

“All of that _is_ the problem,” Roxy huffs out, running a hand through her hair to brush it out of her face. “He’s supposed to be this terrible, terrible guy that I can convince my mother not to marry because it would be a horrible idea to marry a person like that, but he’s…” She waves a hand around as if she can pluck the right adjective out of the air. “I don’t know. Decent.” Sighing, she rubs her temples.

“Right. So you don’t like him because you like him, is that what you’re getting at?” Gary asks, trying not to make his smile too obvious.

Glaring at him, she nods once, slowly. “Shut up, I know. I just wasn’t expecting to like him this much. Or at all.” Her face falls a bit, eyes looking a little less focused. “I feel like I’m betraying my dad,” she whispers.

Gary sits up, scooting until he’s sitting in front of her. He reaches out to take her hands in his. “Look at me.” He has to repeat it before she does, but he brushes his thumbs gently over the backs of her hands, squeezing them lightly to reassure her. “You aren’t betraying anyone, okay? He’d want you and your mum to be happy, alright, not spend the rest of your lives alone and miserable because of him.”

For a moment she just stares at him as if she doesn’t quite believe him. Then she closes her eyes for a moment and nods, opening them to give him a soft smile. “You’re pretty smart sometimes. For an idiot.”

Chuckling, Gary draws her in for a hug, folding his arms around her. “Love you too, Rox.”

*********************

[Thursday November 16th 2:00 P.M.] I request the pleasure of your company at dinner this evening. –HH

[Thursday November 16th 2:07 P.M.] That your fancy way of askin me on a date? –EU

[Thursday November 16th 2:13 P.M.] Unfortunately, no. It’s a rather formal occasion with some colleagues of mine. Considering they extended an invitation for a plus one, they apparently assume I am attached. I would hate to disappoint them. –HH

[Thursday November 16th 2:16 P.M.] I ain’t got anythin to wear. –EU

[Thursday November 16th 2:20 P.M.] Then suppose we met up in an hour to find you something fitting. –HH

[Thursday November 16th 2:23 P.M.] Just give me a place. I can act posh for a couple hours. –EU

[Thursday November 16th 2:29 P.M.] Kingsman. That tailor shop over by the coffee place where we first met.

[Thursday November 16th 2:33 P.M.] See you in an hour. –EU

-

His mind churns as me makes his way to Kingsman. Why bring him to the dinner? Was that typical of sugar daddies, to bring people like him to things like that? He doesn’t know whether he wants it to be typical or not. There’s something equal parts thrilling and terrifying to think that Harry is treating him differently, like he’s something special.

The hour is dwindling down by the time he’s standing in front of Kingsman’s doors. He can see Harry through the glass and he sucks in a deep breath before pushing the door open.

Harry looks over at him the instant he steps in. “Eggsy.” He greets him with a small smile, rising to his feet and striding over to him. Bending down to give him a brief kiss, he studies him momentarily. “I suppose you’ve never had a fitting before. Bespoke suits are truly the only ones worth having, but, unfortunately, we haven’t the time to get one made. It will have to be off the peg.” He looks scandalized, as if the mere thought of wearing one is personally offensive.

He opens his mouth to assure Harry it’s okay, he’s got a few back home that he can run and throw on before remembering that this is Eggsy, not Gary. Eggsy doesn’t have any suits, bespoke or otherwise, and he snaps it shut again. “Don’t worry, bruv, it ain’t me people are gonna be lookin’ at.”

“You underestimate yourself, Eggsy,” Harry states, already hunting through the rows of suits to find one he estimates will fit him. He selects one that doesn’t make him grimace quite as much as the others, passing it over to Eggsy with a sigh. “This will have to do until we can have a better one made for you.”

Accepting it, Eggsy saunters over to the third fitting room, pausing at the doorway. He glances back over his shoulder at Harry, head tilting curiously to one side. “Ain’t you comin’ in with me, Harry?”

***********************

He sits on the edge of his bed, sunlight spilling into the room. His thumb rubs absently over the corner of the small paper, eyes fixed on the number. His free hand clutches his mobile, one finger hovering, ready to dial.

The buzz of his phone startles him and he glances down to see Harry’s name flash up on the screen. With a sigh equal parts relief and disappointment, he folds the paper back up, stuffing it into the pillowcase.

***********************

Eggsy would call it a religious experience.

Harry takes the suit and hangs it from the peg. He turns to Eggsy, gesturing for him to hold his arms out.

Slightly confused, Eggsy does so, realizing the older man’s intentions as he goes around back of him and slips his hoodie from his shoulders.

Harry’s fingers slip underneath the hem of his shirt, brushing briefly against his back, before he’s pulling that off too, tugging it over Eggsy’s head and folding it carefully before setting it to one side. His hands wrap around him until they can reach the button of his jeans, undoing and sliding the zipper down before he places his hands on his hips.

Eggsy practically melts into him, his back pressing against Harry’s broad chest, a small hum of contentment slipping out through his lips. “I can undress myself, you know. Been doin’ it for years,” he teases.

“I’m well aware,” Harry mutters, breath brushing against the back of Eggsy’s neck, sending a small shudder running through him. He releases his hold on his jeans letting them fall to the ground, and takes a pace back so Eggsy can step out of them.

Left standing in front of Harry for the second time in only his boxers, Eggsy turns to face him and folds his arms over his chest. “Appreciatin’ the view?” he asks archly, eyes darting over Harry’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of himself in the full-length mirror.

Harry steps closer to him, tugging his attention away from his reflection. “I must apologize, Eggsy. It was terribly selfish of me to watch you without giving you the opportunity to do the same. Allow me to rectify that situation.” His hand is on Eggsy’s shoulder, spinning him around, and holding him against his chest again before Eggsy really registers what’s happening.

One of Harry’s arms is crossed over Eggsy’s chest, holding him to Harry while the other rests lightly on one of his hips. He looks at them both in the mirror, smirking slightly. “Consider this my apology.” Without further preamble, his fingers dip past the waistline of Eggsy’s pants, pushing them far enough down so Eggsy is completely exposed.

“You’re pretty shit at apologiz-“ Eggsy’s insult is cut off as Harry’s hand encircles his cock, turning into more of a gasp.

“I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch that, Eggsy,” Harry chuckles, voice low in Eggsy’s ear. “What was it you were saying?” His hand strokes languorously up to the head of his cock, thumb circling the very edge of its head teasingly.

Eggsy’s head tips back with a groan, resting on Harry’s shoulder. “N-nothin’. I wasn’t sayin’ anythin’.”

Harry’s lips press close to the shell of Eggsy’s ear, his breath hot on the younger man’s neck as his hand moves back down his cock. He presses his lips just at the edge of his jaw, moving his way down to his neck, teeth just skimming over the soft skin there, coming to rest right over his pulse. He longs to bite down, mark Eggsy up, but the company they will be sharing later might not be as appreciative. Contenting himself with the shuddering sigh he draws from Eggsy, he moves his head back so he can face the mirror again. “You’re missing the view, my dear boy.”

At Harry’s words, Eggsy manages to peel his eyes open, tilting his head far enough forward to see what he’s talking about. His brain can’t quite connect the figure in the mirror with the man currently plastered against Harry, too overwhelmed by pleasure to process much of anything.

His entire face is flushed, glistening pink lips hanging open as his chest heaves for breath. One hand is thrown upwards, fingers curling in Harry’s hair, the other reaching back to grip Harry’s upper leg, fingers digging in as if it’s the only thing anchoring him to the ground. His cock is barley visible, swallowed up by Harry’s hand as it is. The tip glistens wetly with precum and, he has to admit, seeing Harry looming over him holding him so firmly is insanely hot.

Eggsy lets his head fall back again, letting out a breathless laugh. “Bet it’d look even be-“ his breath hitches at a particularly well-timed squeeze, “better if you had your suit off too.”

“I’ve no doubt it would,” Harry murmurs, lips brushing against his skin with every word. “But we really haven’t the time.” So saying, he releases Eggsy, barely giving him time to take another breath before he’s slipping around in front of him, sinking to his knees. “Easier than having to clean up a mess,” he notes, looking up at Eggsy with a smile that could be called innocent in any other situation.

Halfway convinced that he has, in fact, died and gone to whatever place it is where men like Harry Hart get on their knees for men like Eggsy, he starts to protest. Any thought of following through with said protest is obliterated as he’s enveloped by a warm, wet heat.

Harry takes just the head of his cock in his mouth to start, slicking his tongue over his slit and humming appreciatively at the taste. He doesn’t waste any more time, bobbing his head back and forth until he’s managed to get most of Eggsy either in his mouth or down his throat.

Already worked up by the mere sight of Harry between his legs, it doesn’t take much more before Eggsy’s hand flies to Harry’s shoulder to steady himself. “Fuck, I’m gonna…” He doesn’t have to finish the sentence.

Harry swallows it all, swiping his tongue one last time around the head before he pulls off, rising. “Absolutely gorgeous,” he breathes, hand coming up to cradle Eggsy’s cheek tenderly.

Eggsy stretches up, bringing their lips together. He pushes his tongue past Harry’s lips, into his mouth, tasting himself. His hand wanders down to Harry’s trousers, palming him through the fabric.

Sighing, Harry pulls away, gently guiding Eggsy’s hand away from its place. “After dinner, Eggsy. The Unwins won’t be happy if we’re late.”


	6. Ditching Daddy's Dinner Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long. I kept getting sidetracked with other Kingsman projects. It's taken over my life. 
> 
> (Also I didn't edit this chapter, so if there are any typos tell me!)

Eggsy, no, Gary now, freezes. “Sorry, what?” he asks, immensely relieved when his voice doesn’t crack open into a million pieces like he was afraid it was going to do. 

“The Unwins. They’re some business associates of mine and we’ve set up a dinner meeting to discuss plans, although I don’t know how much of that I’d actually expect,” Harry admits with a sigh, not appearing to be looking forward to it. “Between the two of us, they’re not terribly interesting people.”

His brain goes from nothing to racing with ideas in a split second, words spilling out of his mouth faster than he can control them. “Then let’s not go. Just skip out on ‘em, reschedule or somethin’, as long as it ain’t urgent. ‘M sure they won’t mind, rich folks got a ton of free time on their hands, ain’t they? Just push it back.” He needs to wrap this up or he’s going to start looking even more suspicious. The desperation in his eyes isn’t even fake as he paws at Harry’s cock again. “You could stay with me.”

For a second he thinks he’s done it, that Harry’s going to give in and just call the dinner off. His eyes dilate hungrily and his tongue swipes over his bottom lip, but, after a moment, the older man just sighs and shakes his head. “We do have some rather important points of discussion. Time sensitive. Trust me, Eggsy, you’re a much better offer and I would take you if I could,” he assures him, tugging him in and bending down to skim his teeth along the curve of his neck.

Gary can’t even enjoy it. He’s too busy wondering what the fuck he’s going to do. When Harry pulls away and tips his head towards the suit, Gary reaches for it mechanically before he gets the barest hint of an idea. “Uh… Harry, I don’t think this one is gonna fit. Shoulders look a bit broad. Waist too,” he says, pretending to examine it with a critical eye.

Harry’s eyes narrow as he runs his gaze first over the suit and then over Gary who’s focused on tugging his pants back on. “Perhaps you’re right. Try this one on anyways and I’ll slip out and get you the next size smaller.”

“Thanks, Harry.”

The door of the dressing room closes behind him and Gary doesn’t waste even a second. He frantically digs his mobile out from his discarded trousers, placing it to his ear and listening to it ring while bouncing on the balls of his feet. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, pick up,” he breathes as it continues to ring. Then there’s a click and he could nearly cry with relief. “Roxy. Roxy, please, I’m so sorry but I need another favor,” he says all in one breath.

“Gary? Calm down, I’m listening. What’s going on?” she asks, confusion clear in her voice.

“I’m fucked, I am so royally fucked, you have to help me. Harry’s invited me to dinner and I said yes, but it’s with my parents. I didn’t know it was gonna be with parents and he’s comin’ back any minute, so what do I do? Christ, Rox, what do I do?” Gary babbles, eyes fixed on the door handle of the dressing room, dreading the moment when it rattles.

There’s nothing but silence from the other end but he can practically hear the gears turning in Roxy’s head. “Okay. Alright, yes, I’ll help. Just leave it to me.” Then she hangs up.

Gary stares at the lifeless phone in his hand wondering what the fuck just happened. The sudden jerk of the handle jumpstarts him and he leans forward to unlock it, stepping to the side as Harry slips back in.

Looking somewhat surprised to see him still undressed, Harry holds up a suit that looks an awful lot like the one already hanging up. “This should fit, if that one doesn’t.”

He opens his mouth to let fly whatever half-baked excuse his frazzled mind will come up with when his mobile rings. Both of them look down at it, and Gary holds it up to his ear. “Hello?”

“Oh my god, Eggsy, you’ve gotta come right now, there’s been an accident!” It’s Roxy’s voice, but she’s using the same chav accent Eggsy does and Gary’s brow furrows.

“Sorry, what?” He glances up to find Harry staring at him intently, curiosity in his eyes.

There’s hardly a pause, Roxy not missing a beat. “I said there’s been an _accident_ and you have to come _now_. Even if it means you’re late for dinner,” she hisses.

The lightbulb clicks on in his head and he nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, ‘course, I’ll be right there. Don’t move him till the ambulance gets there, understand?” With that, he hangs up.

“Bit of a crisis?” Harry asks mildly, one eyebrow edged slightly upwards. 

Eggsy gives him the most apologetic look he can muster. “Harry, I’m so sorry, but I’ve-“

Harry holds up one hand, forestalling him. “Go, if you have to. I’ve been to many of these dinners without you; I’m sure I can handle one more.” He offers him a small, reassuring smile and guilt coils in the pit of his stomach.

“Thanks, Harry,” he mumbles, already slipping back into his clothes. He stops long enough to give him a sloppy, altogether-too-short kiss before taking his leave of the tailor shop, striding out through the showroom and onto the street where he’s already dialing Roxy again.

“Said it before and I’ll say it again, Roxy, you are a saint,” Gary sighs.

Roxy makes a small huff of annoyance. “Just get home as quick as you can.”

Automatically, Gary’s feet turn him in that direction, but his head tilts in confusion. “What? Why?”

A sigh lets him know he should have been able to figure that out on his own. “Your parents are going to at least want to introduce you to the distinguished Mr. Hart, don’t you think?”

Gary groans. He hadn’t thought about that.

“I’ve a plan, you just have to get back. How long until Harry gets there?” Roxy asks.

Glancing down at his phone briefly, Gary quickens his pace slightly. “Probably got an hour or so. Maybe less if he left right from the shop.”

“Fine. Just don’t come in through the front door in case he gets there earlier than anticipated.”

“Got it, Rox. Thanks.”

“Thank me later. Get here now.”

“Right.” He hangs up. He walks faster. 

-

He clambers in through the window nearly half an hour later. Roxy is sitting primly on his bed, which wouldn’t give him pause except that she’s not wearing anything more than a bra and panties. “Uh, Rox, what…?”

She just rolls her eyes and shifts over to one side of the bed, patting the other side. “Relax, I’m not trying to seduce you or anything. Your mother’s just not likely to stay long when she walks in on you with a half-naked girl, that’s all. Your perfect excuse for missing dinner,” she says as if that should have been obvious, flashing him a brilliant smile.

Snorting, Gary shrugs out of his jacket and shirt, shoving them in the back of his closet where he’s hidden most of Eggsy’s things. “You’re creative, I’ll give you that,” he comments, flopping down on the bed next to her, wearing only his jeans now. 

“Also,” Roxy adds innocently, voice honey-sweet, “as one part of you repaying me for all these favors I’ve done, you’ll be getting rid of this.” She holds up her first two fingers between which rests a slip of paper, folded up several times.

Gary jolts into a sitting position, instantly shoving his hand inside his pillowcase. When his search comes up empty he groans, reaching out to grab it from her.

She leans backwards, stretching her arm back so it’s out of his reach and placing a firm hand on his chest. Leveling a glare at him she slowly shakes her head. “I’m serious, Gary. I’m tearing this up and throwing the scraps out the window. I thought you were getting clean. 

“Come on, Rox, it ain’t like I can just quit this stuff right off. You gotta, you know, ease yourself out of it,” he protests, making another attempt to reclaim the number.

“Then go to a rehab center. Get help, tell someone, I don’t care. You’re just not getting this back,” she declares, scooting backwards until she can swing off the bed and walk deliberately over to the window. Without giving Gary a chance to take it from her, she rips it in half and half again, until she’s holding a handful of what essentially equates to confetti. Unceremoniously, and not even caring that she’s still only in her underwear, she shoves the window open and lets the wind take what’s left of it, nodding in satisfaction. 

Gary grits his teeth as he watches the precious scraps flutter away, refusing to look at Roxy as she closes the window and climbs back up next to him.

Sighing, she winds her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder, slightly surprised that he doesn’t even try to shake her off. “I’m really just trying to help you, Gary,” she says quietly.

He opens his mouth to respond but they hear footsteps on the stairs, the murmur of voices trailing after them.

Without hesitation, Roxy pushes Gary down until he’s stretched out on his back, swinging one leg over his hip to straddle him. She cups his face in both her hands, leaning forwards until her hair slides off her shoulders, creating a screen around their faces, her lips hovering just above his.

Gary’s hands rest lightly on her hips, one finger hooked into the elastic of her panties as the sounds draw nearer.

“Gary, dear, there’s someone I’d like you to- Oh!” The door swings open and his mother stops just outside the door, one hand flying to her mouth. 

Roxy’s head jerks up slightly as if she’s startled, letting out a bit of a yelp.

“Mum!” Gary protests, exceedingly grateful for the slight cover Roxy’s hair provides.

“Sorry, sorry,” she apologizes hastily, already working on shutting the door. “I just thought you might like- never mind. Sorry to interrupt.” With that she’s gone and Roxy is clambering off of him, lips pressed together in a thin line to keep from smiling.

She brushes her hair back behind her ears, bending down to retrieve her discarded clothing. “Exactly as I planned,” she states, smoothing down the hem of her blouse.

Gary stays where he is, turning his head to face her. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You guess?” she asks, pausing to place her hands on her hips. “I’ve just saved you from yourself for the third time in how many days?”

He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, you’re right, you’re right. About everything,” he finally admits.

“Of course I am.” Roxy walks over to card her fingers through his hair gently as a slight form of consolidation. “I’ll see you later, Gary.” Dropping a quick kiss down to his forehead she heads over to the window, hauling it open again and making her way down the tree.

A few minutes pass where Gary remains motionless, just looking up at the ceiling. His mobile buzzes. Lazily, he reaches over to grab it, forcing his eyes to focus on the text. 

[Thursday November 16th 5:15 P.M.] yeah we can meet up tmrrw. same place? –J

[Thursday November 16th 5:17 P.M.] same place -E


End file.
